


In the Pocket

by robocryptid



Series: Not That I'm Complaining [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bath Sex, Cock Piercing, Cockblocking, Coitus Interruptus, Commitment, Domestic, Established Relationship, Handcuffs, Lack of Communication, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overwatch Recall, Sexual Humor, Vacation, assholes in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21722623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robocryptid/pseuds/robocryptid
Summary: An AU in which both Shimadas joined Blackwatch and Jesse McCree fell in love dick first, but that was almost 15 years ago. Now Overwatch is being Recalled, and Jesse has to make up his mind.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Series: Not That I'm Complaining [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1073676
Comments: 69
Kudos: 417





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Since I am sometimes asked: you have my blanket permission to podfic, translate or remix my stuff, make fan art, make fanmixes, etc. -- basically anything that qualifies as transformative works! You don't have to ask me. The only thing I do ask is that you share it with me, because I wanna see/hear/read it! 
> 
> What you do not have permission to do is wholesale copy and repost my fic to a different platform, such as a third-party app that profits from free fan labor. If you are reading this on an app like that, I assure you AO3's website on mobile is perfectly robust, allows downloads of fics for offline reading, has a [dark mode skin](https://archiveofourown.org/skins/929), and isn't trying to scam you by offering premium services that change nothing.#
> 
> \--
> 
> I was going to subtitle this "the sequel nobody asked for," but actually, several people have asked for it, so I guess we're getting into it!
> 
> I don't expect this fic to be even as long as the first, but it'll still come out in installments. Rating and some tags are for future chapters; will update tags as needed.
> 
> This first part is just a prologue, and if it looks familiar, it's because I posted the first draft of it to Tumblr a million years ago, [right here](https://robo-cryptid.tumblr.com/post/175376567312/i-have-a-million-other-things-i-need-to-be-working). Next chapter to follow later this week! :-*

#

If you’d asked Jesse what sort of future he had pictured for himself, he probably wouldn’t have come up with this one. He’d half expected to die young — young _er_ , he supposed, since Hanzo kept growling at him that thirty-six was hardly old — figured he’d go out blaze of glory style, or maybe, when he’d been feeling extra morbid, bleeding out in a ditch somewhere. 

Regardless of how it all went down, a lavish vacation had never really seemed like something he’d get to have. He sure as shit hadn’t ever expected to wind up like this: on a private beach in the South Pacific, lounging in the sun and daydreaming about where his life might have led. 

Sure, vacation might’ve been bought with blood on his hands, but it wasn’t like respectable employment came easy with any kind of background check. Fareeha had tried, a few years back. Helix had a few former Overwatch folks on their payroll, but they’d all been Overwatch proper. One glance at Jesse’s past — no matter that those records were supposed to be sealed, no matter that he’d been a minor — and they’d turned him away. He figured between the criminal past and the Overwatch connections, they’d guessed he hadn’t been one of the ones working above board and didn’t want another scandal. He might as well have gotten Blackwatch tattooed on him just like Deadlock, because anybody with half a brain could put two and two together these days. 

Besides, even if a respectable employer could be sweet-talked into letting one shady applicant slide, no way they were gonna allow for two. And no way was Jesse taking on any kinda dangerous job without Hanzo to watch his back; the last time he’d tried, he’d lost an arm and taken a bullet to the gut for his trouble, and Hanzo’d both saved his sorry ass and threatened to kill Jesse himself if he ever did it again. That was right before he’d dissolved into the sobbing mess. Nearly fifteen years together, and Jesse could still count on his original fingers how many times he’d seen Hanzo really cry. He wasn’t real keen on seeing more of it, much less being the cause of it. 

The whole scene still haunted him, in some ways worse than the loss of the arm itself. It popped into his head, replayed on loop to let him know when an idea was especially stupid. No solo work, then.

But most of their skills, individually or combined, were crafted in pursuit of some kind of violence. Jesse’s particular talents didn’t extend to much else, least not anything that could pull a paycheck; he knew better than to say that where Hanzo could hear though, unless he wanted a stern lecture followed by a deeply embarrassing, itemized list of things Hanzo admired. So the options were to set up somewhere nobody knew either of them, take on some false identities and settle into jobs normal people did and that neither of them were any good at, or to do the shit they excelled at and do it together. Bounty hunting was an easy decision, all things considered, and they were good enough at it that they could be selective, only pick up bounties for folks who deserved it.

They’d almost made it a game: find the nastiest types, the ugliest souls, the ones who bent the law but didn’t always break it. The ones who hid behind money and a thin veneer of respectability to cover all manner of sins. The ones who’d offer a fat check just to be left alone. Find those bounties, take the money they thought would let them escape justice once again, then tell them no anyway. There was something about the work that satisfied both parts of Jesse — the bloodthirsty side that felt like a second skin, worn and comfortable and almost as old as he was, and the part of him that wanted to do real good in the world, most likely cultivated by too much time spent with Overwatch. 

He’d never figured he could have both, just like he’d never planned on a life where he hit thirty and kept going, never planned to have things like vacations, never planned to wind up happily monogamous with the finest specimen this world had to offer. 

“You’re going to burn,” said a voice behind him, just before Hanzo’s face popped into his field of view, upside down and no less handsome for it. Hanzo had always been devastating from any angle. Jesse tipped his head up and back, almost on instinct, and Hanzo gave him a quick kiss, chaste in contrast to the way his thumb stroked down the side of Jesse’s neck. “Are you brooding on our vacation?” 

“Never,” Jesse insisted. “Daydreaming. Was just thinkin’ about how gorgeous you are, then you appeared outta nowhere. Must be fate.”

“Must be.” Hanzo smiled and ran a hand from Jesse’s bare shoulder to his chest, to let it rest just over the hawk tattoo. Jesse was well past any reaction like embarrassment at his own feelings; instead he felt only idle amusement that even something as small as Hanzo’s hand over his heart could still make it beat faster. “And what were the daydreams about?”

Jesse grinned wide and shameless. “Get down here and I’ll show you.”

Hanzo snorted out a laugh. “I’m not sure your lounger will hold both of us.”

“I’m sure you can’t be sure if we don’t test it.” Jesse smiled wider, and he caught one of Hanzo’s wrists, trailed fingers up his forearm just to feel his sun-warmed skin. Hanzo laughed again, but he did it anyway, circled round from behind him and sank down onto the low wooden chaise, legs tangling with legs and fingers tangling with hair. Hanzo kissed him slow and soft and smiling, and Jesse ran his hands down every inch of skin he could reach — which was a frankly obscene amount, given Hanzo’s preference for the tiniest possible swimwear. 

Jesse was curling his hand lazily over the curve of Hanzo’s ass, trying to tuck their hips closer, when the wooden lounger gave an ominous creak. Jesse was tempted to ignore it — he’d suffered worse on this vacation, namely sand in places he didn’t feel like revisiting — but Hanzo was out of his grasp and on his feet in the blink of an eye, just in time for the braces that propped up the recliner to give out behind Jesse. He landed on his back with a wince and a sound that was probably a very manly grunt and definitely not a squawk, but all told, the damage could’ve been worse; at least the thing was still holding on all four legs.

Hanzo, of course, only laughed and laughed, at least until Jesse managed to get to his feet and wrestle him back inside, where there were several perfectly comfortable, perfectly sturdy surfaces to put to use. He was grateful that figuring out which surface it should be was the hardest decision he’d have to make this whole vacation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [blooming](https://www.twitter.com/bloomingjellies) and [mataglap](https://twitter.com/matawrites) for the beta!

#

The vacation had a whole lot going for it, not least of which was Hanzo running around in next to nothing all day long. Jesse had taken advantage of the quick access more than a few times already; he’d made it a personal mission to have sex in every room of the villa at least once, and they’d made good headway on that. The rental was big enough that it was the only thing they had been able to use some of the rooms for.

Hanzo didn’t seem to give a damn about quick and easy this time though, content instead to confine their activities to the master bedroom. Metal bit into Jesse’s wrists where he jerked at the handcuffs, rattling the headboard as Hanzo pressed a series of leisurely, feathery kisses along the inside of his thigh. Hanzo had started at the neck what felt like hours ago, worked his way down and paid special attention to Jesse’s nipples and to the tattoos on his torso: the red-tailed hawk under his collar bone, the desert tumbleweed that covered a shallow, jagged knife scar across his ribs, the sunburst over the old bullet hole, the last of which still made Jesse’s breath hitch all these years later. By now Jesse’s shoulders were starting to go numb and his cock was dripping its demands for attention onto his stomach, and Hanzo still hadn’t even touched it beyond the occasional infuriating brush of a loose strand of hair. 

Heat rose in the wake of Hanzo’s touch, fingertips tracing over belly and hips and thighs, while Hanzo’s mouth moved wet and ticklish over his balls then dipped lower, tongue flicking and swirling over his hole before it laved back upward. Jesse’s dick twitched and his stomach flexed, his whole body strung taut and ready.

“Stop squirming,” Hanzo commanded, but Jesse could hear the smile in his voice. A dry finger pet at Jesse’s hole, never actually breaching, and his mouth returned warm and wet to Jesse’s balls. 

“Stop teasin’ then,” Jesse gritted out when he could.

Breath puffed over wet skin when Hanzo laughed, almost worse than anything his mouth had done directly. “I thought you liked _takin’ yer time_.” Hanzo’s imitation of Jesse’s accent had never really improved, but like everything else Hanzo did in bed, it still made Jesse’s pulse jump. “Especially on vacation.”

The handcuffs were a mistake. Some other time, this would be the point where he’d grab Hanzo by the hair and use his mouth, maybe push him around and fuck him proper. That was the usual goal when Hanzo riled him up like this. This time, though, all Jesse could do was strain at the cuffs and listen to Hanzo laugh, goosebumps prickling along his forearm and thigh muscles twitching. “Have mercy, darlin’.”

Whether it counted as mercy or not, at least Hanzo did _something_. He wrapped a hand around the base of Jesse’s cock and ran his tongue up the underside, lavished slow and careful attention over each of the barbells there. Hanzo’d requested them a few years back. Times like this, Jesse was more than happy he’d obliged him; it might still be torture, but it was a lot harder to be mad about. 

Then he finally reached the top, parted his lips around the crown, and Jesse’s head dropped back against the headboard with a wince and a hot rush of a sigh. The slick heat of his mouth was almost too much, but the loose glide of his lips wasn’t nearly enough. Jesse tried to thrust into it, tried to do anything that felt like he might actually gain some traction, but Hanzo only backed off, mouth sliding free until Jesse’s only option was to writhe impatiently and let his legs fall farther apart to make more room for Hanzo’s broad shoulders.

Hanzo rewarded his efforts by increasing the pressure when he started up again, lips sealing tight and slipping hot down the length of him, tighter still on the way up, all molten heat and slippery wetness and varying pressure. His fingers still teased at Jesse’s rim, which clenched and released slowly in anticipation for something Hanzo might not ever give. Jesse felt flushed, overheated, nails digging into his own palm to distract himself from the fast-building tension. Hanzo pulled back with a pleased little hum, lips and tongue fixated again on the head of Jesse’s cock, and Jesse had to bite at his own bicep to try to keep still, breath rushing hard out of his nose. 

Something buzzed at the edge of his consciousness, but the clutch of Hanzo’s mouth around him kept his mind from latching onto the sound, made him think he had to be imagining it. Then Hanzo’s lips popped off him, followed by a huff that blew a teasing gust of air over cooling saliva, and Jesse cursed. Without Hanzo threatening to suck out his last brain cell, Jesse came back to himself enough to finally hear the insistent knocking at the villa’s front door. 

“Don’t you dare,” Jesse panted, knowing full well that Hanzo would do whatever he pleased and Jesse’d let him, just like it had always been.

He half expected Hanzo to tease him some more or say something bossy, but Hanzo instead decided to be the sensible one. “This is supposed to be a private rental.” The buzzing started up again: Jesse’s phone. Hanzo’s eyes flew wide and he pushed in close, a brush of naked body that Jesse almost leaned into even now. But it was in order to free Jesse from the cuffs.

As soon as he got Jesse’s wrists free, Hanzo was out of the bed and pulling out the small handgun he carried when his bow was too big a burden. At the last second, he snatched a robe off the hook by the bedroom door. Jesse quickly massaged his organic hand back to life then reached for his gun soon as the fingers stopped tingling. 

He watched from the bedroom, poised to provide backup while Hanzo checked the peephole. Hanzo’s shoulders bunched, then they dropped into a laugh that shook his whole body. Then he flung open the front door. 

“Cover up, I’m coming in!” shouted Genji’s voice from the doorway. Warning or not, he didn’t give Jesse any time to react before he walked right in, and of course Genji’s eyes wouldn’t just settle on his own damn brother. Jesse scrambled for anything at all and came up with his hat to hold over his flagging dick. “That was supposed to be a joke. Why are you like this?” 

“You’re the one bargin’ in while we’re on vacation. The hell else did you expect?” 

Genji pressed his fingers over his eyes, rubbing as if it could erase the image of Jesse with naught but a gun and his hat to cover what the good Lord gave him. “I don’t know, vacation stuff? Swimming? Shopping? Literally _anything else_.”

Jesse didn’t hear the rest. He’d finally gotten some sense shaken back into him, and he shut the bedroom door, leaving Hanzo to deal with Genji while he went on a hunt for clothes that didn’t look too dirty or rumpled from various pre-sex activities. He came up with a soft old t-shirt and a pair of swim trunks, which would have to do. It was Genji’s fault for interrupting anyway. No need to get too presentable on his behalf.

When he emerged, he found Genji sprawled out on one of the plush chairs in a way the furniture was plainly not designed for, neck bent back over one arm and his legs flung over the other. Hanzo stood nearby, unable to stop himself from glancing with dismay, over and over, at the packed bag Genji had brought. He didn’t look real relieved when Jesse entered either, which spelled some sort of trouble Jesse sure as hell wasn’t in the mood to deal with. Not after such an abrupt end to much more exciting endeavors. 

“Where you headin’ next?” Jesse asked, making sure his own glance at Genji’s bag was a lot less discreet. 

It was Hanzo who answered though. “My brother says he has come to take us to Overwatch, and he is not leaving until we agree to go with him.”

Genji turned his head just enough to look at Jesse and _wink_. More insulting than the expression itself, Jesse was almost certain winking when he knew he was being obnoxious was something he’d picked up from Jesse over the years. Hell of a time to throw it back in his face like that.

“Hope you liked seein’ me naked, then. You’re gonna have to get used to it.” Genji rolled his eyes and opened his mouth, but Jesse cut him off. “Didn’t anybody get the hint when we didn’t answer?”

“Jesse,” Hanzo began.

“What? It’s not like we’re gonna go.” Hanzo’s face was doing… something. A lot of somethings at once, really. Jesse felt his own face do a lot of somethings too. “We’re not, right?” he asked more softly. They’d been on the same page up until now. What the hell could Genji have said to change that? The straining silence made it easy to hear the quiet sound Genji made with his mouth: the kind meant to mimic a whip cracking. “I swear to God, Genji…”

“I think we should hear him out,” Hanzo finally said. He looked like his patience could shatter any minute, like he was gonna shift from this quiet restraint to the kind of vibrant, brilliant anger only Genji or Jesse — or both at once, sometimes — could inspire. That was all that kept Jesse from going off about just how many bodies he had to bury in his line of work and how willing he was to use all that practice to toss Genji out on his ass. Ninja or not, Jesse had to have a good thirty pounds on him, bare minimum; surely that counted for something.

As he moved tight-lipped to the couch, he could still hear that fucking whip crack reverberating in his head though. Genji’s toothy grin didn’t help at all. At least he rearranged himself to sit like a real human before he started talking again. “Everyone got your hint. Some of us assumed you would change your minds. You didn’t, so I am here to change them for you.”

“Great start,” Jesse muttered, and Genji rolled his eyes.

“You know who did join up?” Jesse didn’t answer that, and neither did Hanzo. Genji looked satisfied enough that he’d gotten their attention. “Winston, obviously. Angela. Some Dr. Zhou from an old research team. We just recruited another medic whose other job is as a DJ. If it turns out he’s good in a fight, there are five of us who _might_ have field combat training beyond the basics. Two of those are new and one is Reinhardt, who— he is a valuable asset, but he is hardly in his prime.”

Hanzo asked, “Who are they? There’s the DJ, you, Reinhardt…”

“Tracer and Fareeha Amari. Reinhardt has mentioned bringing on his… protégé, but it sounds like her talents lie in engineering.”

“Fareeha’s a damn professional, and Angie can hold her own,” Jesse said slowly, but even being stubborn, he knew Angie did her best work — and preferred to remain — out of the fray.

“Six wouldn’t be enough either. You two aren’t going to be enough. But it would be more, and it would be people who’ve done all this before.”

“It is unlike you to be so invested,” Hanzo said.

If Genji were the type prone to blushing, he might have right then, but as it was, his mouth just flattened into a straight line and he glanced at the floor. When he looked back up, he wore the same devil-may-care smile he always did, but Jesse didn’t think anybody in the room was buying it. “Oh, you know, all the travel and parties were getting repetitive. And I don’t want to be the only one there who remembers Blackwatch as something more than a scandal.” The smile wavered. “And I miss my brother.”

That was it then. Jesse could see it all over Hanzo’s face. Genji did whatever he pleased, dropped in and out of their lives between one adventure and another. He had claimed for a while now he was “finding himself,” but mostly he’d found himself at concerts and in strangers’ beds all over the world. Unless it was Hanzo talking privately to Jesse, neither Shimada was real expressive about their feelings either. So if anything could convince Hanzo, it would be some hint of ambition or earnestness, and Genji had displayed both at once. Jesse might have felt manipulated by it if he weren’t so sure it was sincere. 

A headache began to form behind his eyes. “I’ll let you two catch up.”

First he went beachside to give them their privacy. He also might have been looking to rub it in when he video called Angie; someone had to appreciate what Overwatch was interrupting. “Jesse!” She answered so brightly that it was suspicious, especially after all the times he’d called in a favor or needed medical attention. She knew Genji had come, then. She had to.

Even if she was in on the scheme, it felt good to talk to her, and better when she got Fareeha to join in. It had been so long since he’d seen either of them, and there they were in one place, happy in each other’s company and smiling at him. It was at least as persuasive as anything Genji might have said to Hanzo, even before they got around to talking about the Recall. They didn’t really push; sure, they exchanged a disappointed look like Jesse wasn’t _right there_ to see it, but they seemed willing enough to accept his mumbled, “I’ll think about it.”

They talked until his tablet’s battery started to fade and the sweat adhering his shirt to his body grew too unpleasant. On his way back to the bedroom, he had to pass by Hanzo and Genji again. Hanzo had taken the time to get fully dressed, and he sat stiffly on the low couch, just bristling with tension. Jesse considered swinging by to offer some support or steal a kiss, but the conversation sounded heated. His Japanese had gotten a lot better over the years, but he didn’t think his ear would ever be good enough to keep up with more than one native speaker at a time. He could make out a word here and there, but they spoke too quickly for him. Even with his limitations, it was obvious they were already having some kind of argument though. 

No way was he getting in the middle of that. Still thinking about how damp his shirt had gotten and how much he needed to relax, he figured a soak in the stupidly big tub would kill two birds with one stone. Even with all the places they had traveled, it wasn’t often he could find a bathtub large enough for him to stretch out. He tried to appreciate the rare indulgence and clear his mind, but Overwatch and Winston’s Recall kept creeping back in. 

His life was better because of them. Without Overwatch, chances were high he’d be in either prison or a shallow grave. He never would have met Gabe or Jack or Ana, never would have met Angie or Fareeha or Genji. Never would have met the love of his life. That didn’t mean he owed them anything now though. 

None of the old promises had stuck. Jesse might have been fine with the life he and Hanzo had built, but he still knew their creativity had been born from otherwise limited prospects. Overwatch had taken all they could give, and in return they had nothing to show for it but bad reputations and a world no better off than before. It had taken even more from Ana, from Gabe and Jack, and they’d been the ones at the helm. They’d paid the highest prices, but some way or another, everybody Overwatch had ever touched had been chewed up and spit out.

He didn’t really blame Winston. Something huge was coming down the pipe; any glance at the news was enough to convince him of that. But there were other ways to survive and other ways to fix shit. Overwatch didn’t have to be the only answer.

Hanzo came in while the bath was still steaming. He settled on the edge of the tub and flicked a spray of water at Jesse. “Rude,” Jesse muttered, but it was hard to hold back the tiny smile that came with it.

“May I join you?” 

“Tub’s way too big for one. I was startin’ to feel lonely.” 

Even distracted and annoyed with their current situation, he didn’t mind watching Hanzo peel his shirt off, muscles stretching and bunching with each movement. It wasn’t meant to be a show though; no matter how much Hanzo smirked like he knew Jesse was watching, he still got naked quick and without much fanfare. 

He eased into the water and toward Jesse, whose knees fell farther apart to accommodate him more or less by instinct. “Well, hi,” Jesse said dumbly as Hanzo slotted up against him, warm skin slick with sudsy water.

“Hi.” Hanzo nudged at Jesse’s nose with his own. It was even harder to brood like this, too easy to let Hanzo crowd that headspace with a smile and a kiss and the slippery slide of their chests and bellies.

“You sounded grumpy out there.”

Hanzo made a face at that, flicked more water at him. “This was supposed to be a week just for us,” he answered, and Jesse could only nod in agreement. It had been kind of overshadowed by Genji trying to drag them back to Overwatch, but the timing was piss poor too. Why couldn’t Genji have crashed when they were stuck in some rathole motel tracking down another dirtbag?

He didn’t have to say all that out loud though. Hanzo knew. “Shoulda let me blow you in the kitchen before we had a guest,” Jesse said instead. 

Hanzo snorted. “I was worried about your knees. That floor is unforgiving.” He let his hair down then, and Jesse couldn’t help but touch, curling a lock of it around wet fingers. 

“Real sweet of you.” He drew Hanzo toward him again, and Jesse thought this was the part where they’d kiss and he’d get a pleasant distraction from the day’s events, but Hanzo only pressed their foreheads together with a sigh.

“We should discuss this.” 

Jesse couldn’t help the small groan that escaped, but he couldn’t find it in him to disagree either. He didn’t have to ask what Hanzo meant. “I don’t think I wanna go back there.” Hanzo was bracing himself with a hand on Jesse’s right arm. Although the memorial tattoos were years old now, the present circumstances and Hanzo’s thumb tracing slowly over his skin made him keenly aware of them. The flower for his mother had nothing to do with this, but there were flowers for Ana and Jack and Gabe, and he felt that ache like it was new again. “We got out for a reason.”

“I know. I promised you a long time ago that wherever you go, I will follow,” Hanzo said fondly, damp fingers pushing Jesse’s hair from his face. “But we should review our options. There is no guarantee it will be the same as before. The circumstances have changed.” Jesse grunted at that; however Hanzo had meant it, it was another reminder that their leadership had changed. “And I admit there is some appeal to staying in one place for a time. Perhaps spending time with family.”

“Genji’s been here two hours and you already threatened to kill him.”

Hanzo laughed. “He intruded here. But I did miss him.”

Jesse could understand that. Most days, Hanzo was all the company he could ever need, but he had to admit that the sight of Angie and Fareeha had made him happy, made him realize how long it had been since he’d last seen them. Might be nice to spend the kinda time with them that didn’t require some whirlwind conversation to catch each other up to speed. Be nice to be part of their everyday lives instead. And once the irritation wore off over the _how_ and _why_ of his visit, it’d be nice to spend time with Genji again too.

Still the doubts ate at him. “And if it is the same as before? Same shit happens as in Geneva?” Hanzo didn’t seem to have an answer for that, only a quiet grunt and a wrinkle between his brows. “You know what it’d do to me if something happened to you?”

Hanzo’s fingers curled around his left arm, over the scarred flesh just above the port for his prosthetic. Jesse didn’t have to be a genius to know what memory Hanzo was thinking of. “I would be no more at risk than in our current job, and there is medical care readily available. No more back alley doctors or begging Angela.” Jesse chuckled at that. They’d been fortunate that they usually got whatever care they needed, but Jesse had strained Angie’s good graces more than a few times asking after supplies she never should’ve given him. “And this may shield us from bounty hunters and lend us some legitimacy.” That mattered too; most other hunters kept to an unspoken rule not to fuck with any of their own, but there were a few who’d been tempted by the crazy high price on their heads. Those few had learned the hard way why Jesse and Hanzo were the best in the business, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t a pain to live looking over their shoulders.

“What about the rest?” 

“We saw it coming before, and we got out before. We could do the same again, and warn the people we love more easily if we catch it early from the inside.” Hanzo said it so matter-of-fact. He did this easier than Jesse did: argued a point just to tease it apart, whether or not he bought the logic by the end of it. Hard to tell this time if it was all cold analysis or if he wanted to talk Jesse into something, but Jesse found it persuasive either way.

“Is that what you wanna do then, honey? Give up long vacations and makin’ our own schedule to go running back to Overwatch?” Jesse laughed at that. “Thought you hated it there.”

“It would be freely chosen this time, and you know I don’t accept a job without a proper negotiation,” Hanzo said with a small smile. 

Jesse instinctively smiled back, though the whole conversation was making him tired. “I’m startin’ to suspect you just wanna be one of the good guys,” he teased, and Hanzo rolled his eyes. It was exactly the reaction he’d expected. “Gimme some time to think about it.” 

Hanzo nodded and Jesse pulled him in again, aiming to finally get that kiss. Hanzo indulged him this time, leaning in so Jesse could kiss him deep and run his hands over as much slick, soapy skin as he could reach. It was only when Jesse let his mouth go to get at his neck that Hanzo asked, “This is what counts as ‘thinking about it’?”

“Mmhmm, givin’ it some serious thought,” Jesse murmured against his skin. Hanzo chuckled and let Jesse drag their hips together, the coil of heat in his belly growing quickly after their earlier interruption. It spiraled tighter and hotter still when Hanzo’s hand closed around his cock. They had several false starts, interspersed with quiet cursing and laughing, because the luxurious tub may have been large enough for two, but it didn’t make it any less treacherous than any other wet ceramic. Hanzo threatened to overbalance and break both their noses more than once, but once Jesse sat up straighter they managed to work it out. 

Calluses dragged over his hip and thigh, the roughness apparent even with the soapy water slicking up his skin. Then Hanzo’s hand closed around his dick again, and Jesse made a sound that was half groan, half breathless laugh as his grip grew firmer, working it over with these precise, practiced motions. Hanzo swallowed the sound and swept his tongue into Jesse’s open mouth, crowded in close until his cock sat hard against Jesse’s hip.

Jesse settled one hand in the dip of Hanzo’s back to hold him close, but he felt useless to do much else. Between the pent up tension from earlier and Hanzo knowing exactly how to wind Jesse up, it all seemed to go too quickly. The hot press of Hanzo’s body against his, the glide of slippery skin, it was too much all around. 

With a mighty amount of willpower, Jesse at least got his hand between them, their knuckles bumping against each other as he wrapped clumsy fingers around Hanzo’s cock. Their kiss grew sloppier still, tongues and breaths spilling between their gasping, clinging mouths. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of them, blood rushing in Jesse’s ears, heat sparking white hot in his gut. He tensed, panting and unable to keep up with the kiss any more, and he came with a shudder. He didn’t feel real coordinated right then, but it must have been good enough, because Hanzo didn’t take much longer.

By the time they were finished, they had spilled water all over the floor and needed to run a fresh bath to clean up, but Jesse was in a far better mood than when he’d arrived. Hanzo looked mighty pleased with himself, and Jesse did his best not to tease him about it. In return, Hanzo didn’t tease him about how long he took to groom his facial hair afterward — probably for the best, since he did most of that grooming for Hanzo’s sake anyway. A man could only take so many complaints about beard burn in sensitive places before he started looking into the surprisingly wide world of oils, balms and conditioners.

Once they’d both groomed and dressed, Hanzo asked, “Are you ready to be civil to our guest now?”

Jesse snorted. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be with you in a minute, sweetheart.”

With Hanzo out of the room, Jesse dug through his things until he found Peacekeeper’s cleaning kit, feeling funny about it the whole way. They didn’t keep secrets. Each lived more or less in the other’s pocket, and they had never needed much privacy, not from each other. But Hanzo didn’t ever touch this, any more than Jesse would’ve touched his bow without asking. Jesse pushed the solvent aside and thumbed open the little pocket he’d stitched in between the liner and the outer casing. 

The ring felt too light in his palm, nowhere near weighty enough for all it represented. He’d spent years waffling over the choice until he finally picked up this plain gold band on pure impulse a couple months back. He hadn’t found a way to ask yet. There’d never been a good time for it. Hard to imagine a real wedding for friends and family scattered around the globe, and more than a little pointless to try to do a civil ceremony if it would just attract the law, or bounty hunters, or what remained of the Shimadas.

But Hanzo’d mentioned family and _legitimacy_ , and now the words rang in his head. The friends and family that mattered had answered the Recall, all of them together in one place. If they could restore Overwatch to its old influence, get the Petras Act overturned, they might could renegotiate the charges they’d wracked up, same way Gabe had done when Jesse was a kid. Maybe this time he could even make it stick. Hell, marriage or not, it’d be nice to get their names off the wanted lists.

He tucked the ring carefully back in its hiding spot and went to track down Hanzo again. “Let’s do it,” he said. “Let’s go play hero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [miadarkarcher](https://www.twitter.com/miadarkarcher) drew [this lovely art of the bathtub scene](https://twitter.com/miadarkarcher/status/1205306295500365824?s=20)! <3


	3. Chapter 3

They cut their vacation short by a day, mostly thanks to how hard it was to keep Genji entertained. He had meant it when he’d said he wasn’t leaving without them. Worse, they learned that the villa was not exactly soundproofed. All three of them made an unspoken pact to never again mention the incident leading up to  _ that _ discovery. So instead of the sex-fueled vacation they had planned for, Jesse and Hanzo wound up playing tourist or lounging by the water with their third wheel firmly attached. 

The sunburn Genji suffered after an impromptu nap on the beach was honestly less than he deserved, but it was still pretty satisfying.

Overwatch headquarters were located at the old Watchpoint in Gibraltar. It was a far cry from the crystal waters and lush tropical greenery Genji dragged them away from, but the Mediterranean was another kind of beautiful. Even the beat-up exterior of the facility couldn’t totally take away from the view. 

They arrived to find the place nearly abandoned. Turned out most of Overwatch had run off to save the world while Genji had been away. He disappeared upon arrival, citing his need for time alone, or with anyone who wasn’t the two of them.

They were greeted at the door by Dr. Zhou, whose head barely came up to Jesse’s chest and whose wide-eyed demeanor was almost timid. Hard to imagine her with a gun in her hand. Pretty damned telling, too, that she was left behind on base — by request, as she told it. 

She was sweet though. She told them to call her Mei, and she walked them through the ghost town formerly known as a Watchpoint. Most of it was left dark, lights operating only in the hallways and whatever rooms were in use. Jesse glanced over her head at Hanzo, whose face was drawn up like he was having the same second thoughts as Jesse. 

“It’s just you here?” Jesse pried. 

“Oh, no. I have Athena! And Snowball.” She gestured at the bot floating at her side. Hanzo’s frown deepened. “And Lúcio will be back in a few hours. He’s just in town.” There wasn’t any polite way to press the issue further, at least not without implying she couldn’t take care of herself. 

Genji had filled them in on a few things, like Reaper’s attack right here. That was the last straw before Winston had issued the Recall. A mercenary, a  _ professional terrorist, _ had waltzed right into the Watchpoint a few months ago, and now they had all abandoned base, left nobody behind to defend it except a climate scientist, a DJ, and an AI whose primary function was administrative — and that was assuming Athena had aged well in the first place.

Normally Jesse was the one who dealt better with people, but he couldn’t get out of his head about it. Hanzo had to pick up the slack, asking politely after Mei’s work here and doing a fine job of showing interest in her answers. She dropped them off at their door and left them to get settled in. 

The room was probably as nice as it was going to get around here. Based on visits to other Watchpoints, Jesse would put money on this being some bigwig’s quarters once upon a time. It was bigger than his old one back in their Blackwatch days, but still there was something about it that reminded him of that time. Maybe it was the shitty fluorescent lighting. Or that weird, flat carpet that might as well have been concrete for all the cushion it gave. Or maybe it was just knowing he was here for Overwatch again, and Hanzo was right by his side, just like before. 

He caught Hanzo taking it all in with a face that said he wasn’t feeling as nostalgic as Jesse was.

“We’re still packed, and Genji’s off our backs. We can leave any time you like,” Jesse said. 

Hanzo looked surprised. “No. No, I think we may be necessary. For now. Unless you have changed your mind.”

“Nope. Flew all the way out here. Might as well see it through.”

With that settled, Jesse reached for Hanzo, who reached back like he’d been thinking the same thing. They had spent the past several days getting blueballed by his hopefully-future-brother-in-law, and now he finally had Hanzo alone behind a thick door. Other business could wait. 

Jesse kissed him and didn’t hold back any of the hunger. Long practice let him tug Hanzo’s hair free from its tie without any struggle, then he plunged his hands in, the strands spilling smoothly over his fingers. Hanzo let Jesse guide him with thumbs stroking along his cheeks or down his neck. 

There was something satisfying about knowing he could still do this: get Hanzo leaning into him, fingers loosely curled and useless around Jesse’s wrists, overwhelmed with just a kiss. They were coming up on fifteen years together, and Jesse could still get him weak in the knees. The thought might have been smug, but he figured he’d earned it. 

It also reminded him of that ring burning a hole in the pocket of his kit. He didn’t know if Hanzo would even  _ want  _ it. Not like Jesse had doubts about them staying together. Just that they had never officially discussed getting married, and maybe most people did that before one of them went out and bought a ring half on a whim. And he could probably live with Hanzo saying no, because it wasn’t like anything was going to drive Jesse away from him. But it might  _ change  _ something if he did, and maybe not for the better, and even if it was temporary, maybe it was easier not to rock the boat.

So he wasn’t going to ask until the option made sense — until they could walk into a government building in their respective home countries without getting arrested on the spot. “Arrested” would probably be the lucky outcome, all things considered. Maybe it was knowing they  _ couldn’t  _ that made Jesse want it so much to begin with, or maybe it was the fact that he didn’t have many tangible things to connect him to anybody else. 

Jesse hadn’t had a real home in twenty years, and most days he was content to say Hanzo was his home, and in most ways it was  _ true. _ But it was just… if anything happened, if Hanzo went the way of Ana or Gabe or Jack or Jesse’s mama, Jesse didn’t want it all to live only in his head. He needed evidence, witnesses, specific dates to mark out so it didn’t all blend together. 

It was Hanzo who broke the kiss. Trust him to know when he didn’t have Jesse’s full attention, because it had to be a shocking change from the norm. “Is something wrong?” 

“Just tired,” Jesse hedged. 

“We can rest if you would rather.”

“I have spent the past several days getting cockblocked by your brother. I’m not lettin’ a little jet lag stop me now.”

“What have I told you about bringing up my brother when I want to have sex?”

“That it’s a great way to make you change your mind?” Jesse laughed quietly, then he ducked back in for another kiss before Hanzo actually  _ could  _ change his mind. This time Hanzo was more active about responding, fisting a hand in the collar of Jesse’s shirt to hold him in one place. It would be a lot easier to ignore his worries once they got horizontal. 

Hanzo kissed him like he needed convincing, which was frankly fucking ridiculous, but he could appreciate the thoroughness of it. Getting undressed required more fumbling than it should have. Jesse’d blame his eagerness on the unexpected drought in their sex lives, and on Genji by proxy, but he had taken Hanzo’s words to heart. No mentioning Genji then. There were better things to do than gripe anyway, like resolve the whole blueballs issue. 

Landing on his back with Hanzo’s weight pressing him down was one way to find out the mattress here kind of sucked. Not that it was important  _ now, _ but it was probably something worth bringing up if they were going to be doing this often. They had fucked in worse conditions than on a thin mattress in a clean room, but he would want a good night’s sleep eventually. 

Between the swift undressing and the eager groping, Hanzo showed no signs of slowing down until he broke away to paw through the suitcase nearest the bed. Jesse pushed up onto his elbows to watch. Of  _ course  _ Hanzo had packed the lube right at the top of one of their bags, because of course he’d known they would need it right away. He was the planner between them. Besides, Jesse didn’t mind the show. Even digging through luggage was hot when Hanzo looked like that. Naked, he was a sight to behold. He could have been doing just about anything and Jesse would’ve loved it. 

Jesse stayed in shape too. Had to for the job; he never knew when he would end up having to haul ass somewhere, or haul a dead body somewhere else. And maybe he had  _ some  _ cause to do it just for pride, because Hanzo was like some kind of well-oiled machine, and Jesse didn’t ever want to reach a point where he couldn’t keep up. 

It was fighting an uphill battle though, because Hanzo himself spent an embarrassing amount of time attempting to pamper him. Like now: Hanzo eased him onto his back again, batting away Jesse’s hands, which wasn’t at all fair when Hanzo was naked and straddling him. “I will take care of everything. Relax.”

“I can’t even touch you?”

“You said you were tired. And you keep whining about getting old.”

Jesse laughed and maybe meant to do something about his teasing, but he couldn’t stop running his hands up and down Hanzo’s thighs, even if he wasn’t allowed to touch any higher up. “You’re older than me!”

“Yes, and it has given me a dignified bearing. You just complain about your joints. Now lie still, old man.”

“Let me watch, then.” Jesse said it with the kind of leer that usually got Hanzo to laugh and to indulge him. 

Even Hanzo couldn’t make the moves it took to turn around look graceful, but Jesse didn’t mind that so much. Hanzo’s fingers smeared the lube along his crack and disappeared, sinking easily inside. He shifted his weight, bent forward enough that Jesse could see better. 

He knew what Jesse liked. Hanzo never needed more than a little lube before he was good to go, but for Jesse, he worked his thick fingers inside himself, twisting and pushing, and the sounds he made were probably exaggerated for Jesse’s sake too, but Jesse’s dick didn’t give a damn. 

Of course when Jesse tried to get involved, Hanzo swatted his hands away again, so watching was sort of torture too. He wasn’t entirely without mercy though. He settled down onto Jesse’s cock soon enough, and for all that Jesse tried to hold still for him, he couldn’t help the jerk of his hips up into the tight heat of Hanzo’s body. 

He also couldn’t  _ not  _ touch after that. His hands found Hanzo’s hips, moving restlessly over his skin. He watched his cock disappear over and over into Hanzo’s ass, which was basically the greatest place on earth as far as Jesse was concerned. He wanted to stay there for hours, watching until it constricted around his cock and milked him for all he was worth. Instead he watched until he had to tip his head back and shut his eyes, mouth going dry as he went from holding his breath to panting, fingers squeezing reflexively where he was still groping Hanzo’s ass. Jesse’s hips stuttered and he felt fire in his belly and he came with a shuddering moan.

Hanzo was only merciful to a point, because he certainly wasn’t going to let Jesse get away with lying there like a lump while he was still hard. He eased off Jesse’s dick and turned around, forced Jesse to get a hand around his cock, and he came all over Jesse’s chest before bending down to steal a kiss. Then he flopped down to lie by Jesse’s side.

“Hi,” Jesse said after he’d recovered.

Hanzo snorted. “Hello.”

“I love you. And your ass.”

“Mm. Same.”

“My ass or your ass?”

“Jesse, please. I’m tired.”

“This mattress sucks, though.”

“It really does.”

* * *

The bulk of New Overwatch — as Jesse had taken to thinking about it — returned the following day. Not even enough time to really get acclimated to the place before they crowded it. 

It would have been nice to catch up with his friends, but everyone returning from the mission looked worn out. Hanzo decided that this was the perfect time to corner Winston for those negotiations he’d mentioned. Jesse was pretty sure Winston’s obvious exhaustion factored into the strategy. 

Hanzo insisted on several conditions, payment being the biggest one. Winston could meet most of the stipulations, but Overwatch didn’t have much in the way of funds, especially not the kind of money they were used to earning. Hanzo came back with the demand that they should keep the option to take on bounties on the side. 

Usually Jesse let Hanzo take the lead on their financial situation, but he wasn’t totally ignorant of their bank accounts — multiple, under several names and across a few different countries, and Jesse was pretty sure some of them took advantage of the same sort of shady loopholes all those white collar bullshit bounties did. More to the point, he knew what the accounts contained. So when Winston started to nod, Jesse added, “Of course, we’d make sure a portion of the bounty goes to Overwatch. At least while we’re under your roof.” 

Hanzo did not look pleased, but he also didn’t have that pinched off bitchface he got once in a blue moon when Jesse had  _ really _ made him mad. This was more like his “we’re gonna talk about this later, and you’re not going to enjoy it” bitchface. Hanzo hated to disagree in front of anybody — which might have had a lot to do with being raised to present a united front for anyone not in some kind of inner circle — so his face morphed quickly into the blandest almost-smile Jesse had seen in a while, and he agreed that  _ of course  _ that was what he had meant. 

Winston got this sort of sweet, surprised expression, and his quiet admission that they could use all the help they could get was… well, Jesse wasn’t sure it was worth making Hanzo annoyed with him, but it did feel pretty good. 

They didn’t have to negotiate for things like time off; there was no expectation for them to stick around full-time, and they certainly weren’t being coerced into it the way it had been with Blackwatch. They could keep their nice room even while they were away, and they had explicit permission to make whatever changes they felt like, barring anything that fucked up the structural integrity. Most of the rest was inconsequential, but they also got a written guarantee, at Hanzo’s insistence, that  _ if  _ Overwatch regained any of its old clout or even some basic legal standing, they would devote resources to clearing Jesse and Hanzo’s records once and for all. Genji’s too, even if he hadn’t asked. 

For everyone else, the introductions would have to wait. As much as their friends had hounded them to join,  _ they  _ still had jobs to do and a mission to recover from. As his final request, Hanzo pressured Winston into letting them borrow a vehicle.

“Need some space already?” Jesse teased as they pulled away from the base.

“No. I am not spending another night on that awful mattress.” Hanzo cast him a sideways look, and there was the bitchface again. “Although we may have to watch our budget. Thank you for that.”

Jesse snorted and didn’t bother taking the bait to start bickering. He was too delighted by the rest. Of all the things they had done in all their time together, buying household goods wasn’t one of them. “Can’t believe we’re finally pickin’ out curtains.”

“There aren’t any windows, Jesse.” No telling if this was Hanzo actually misunderstanding the idiom or if it was one of his jokes, but it made Jesse grin anyway. Rather than ask or explain himself, he began flicking through the stations he could find in the truck’s radio, skipping through so many that Hanzo finally grabbed his hand lightly and said in a strained voice,  _ “Please.” _ After that, they were stuck on the religious soft rock station until they got into town, an option which was only fair because they were equally unsatisfied. 

By the time they got into town and parked, Jesse’s stomach suggested a detour. They ate lunch at a pub in a crowded tourist area, which Jesse enjoyed for its people-watching potential and Hanzo merely tolerated. Out in the square, folks were clustered together, all eyes pointed the same way. Expecting some kind of show, Jesse grabbed Hanzo by the hand and pulled him closer. In the middle of the crowd stood a young man playing guitar, serenading a flushed and giggling woman. 

“Oh. Oh no,” Hanzo muttered, fingers tightening in Jesse’s.

“What? It’s sweet.”

He began to doubt his own words as the song ended and the man sank to one knee. Hanzo went from only gripping to yanking, trying to pull Jesse away from the scene with the kind of desperation usually reserved for actual life-or-death scenarios. “It’s  _ embarrassing,”  _ Hanzo hissed.

Jesse laughed, adjusted his balance, and stood his ground. “Don’t you wanna see how it pans out?”

“Not at all.” The tension in Hanzo’s voice finally got through, and Jesse stopped fighting him. He let Hanzo drag him back through the crowd and away from the spectacle, nerves making him feel strangely cold. “Thank you.” Hanzo seemed genuinely relieved. 

“Sure. Of course,” Jesse said. He knew he had to sound distracted. He knew he should be past these shaky moments by now, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask which part Hanzo had taken issue with, afraid the answer would be too much to handle at the moment. 

If Hanzo noticed, there weren’t any signs of it on his face. He did, however, suggest coffee and dessert at a nearby cafe, which was the sort of distraction he liked to offer any time he thought Jesse was annoyed. Or it could be that his sweet tooth was calling to him. Or he just saw it and got a wild hair. Jesse scrubbed a hand over his face and determined to stop tying himself up in knots over nothing. 

The coffee  _ did  _ help though, and so did the shopping, during which Jesse failed to convince Hanzo they needed the sheets covered in cowboy hats and lassos — “Those are for children, Jesse” — but he successfully talked him into both a delicate glass cactus from one of the tourist shops and a very much alive cactus from the nearby market. 

Maybe they weren’t curtains, but the sheets and duvet were soft — if in boring yet respectable shades of blue and gray — and picking out decor scratched a funny domestic itch Jesse hadn’t realized he’d been feeling. Mattress shopping was more intense, with far too many options for something that really only served one function, but after years sleeping in rentals and hotels and even squatting, they both had pretty solid opinions about what counted as a good mattress. 

Negotiating something that worked for both of them went well enough. Buying it went fine. Getting it into the truck was a different story. The truck bed was short, and the drive back up would be steep.

“I don’t think there’s enough room to lay it flat,” Jesse huffed. “If we do make it fit, I don’t know how we’re gonna get it back out.” 

“With help from our fellow agents, presumably. Perhaps Athena has a bot for this.”

What it really came down to was that Hanzo wanted to try it one way, Jesse wanted to try it another, neither of them had any experience to draw from, and they didn’t care to risk the brand new mattress flying out of the truck bed. It was hot, and it was late in the afternoon, and they had been out long enough that they were both feeling the strain of too much time in public; the heightened alertness that came with navigating crowds was  _ exhausting.  _

Jesse blamed those things for his snippiness when he said, “Sure. We’ll just do it your way.”

Hanzo arched an eyebrow. “I’m glad we have reached an agreement.”

“Not much of an agreement if it’s just what you want every time.”

The second eyebrow shot up to join the first. Hanzo’s voice remained composed, though. “We have two cacti as proof of my ability to compromise.”

Hanzo  _ would  _ say something like that. He wasn’t totally wrong either. Jesse took a deep breath, then he let it out on a laugh. “Yeah. Sorry, I’m—” There was no one who mattered around. It could be a good time to bring  _ it _ up, but all he could think about was the near-horror on Hanzo’s face at that proposal. “I’m tired.”

The look Hanzo gave him was skeptical. So was his grunt. But he accepted it, they strapped the mattress in the way Hanzo wanted to, and they drove back up the rock in silence. 

Athena  _ did  _ have a bot for their shopping bags. It at least meant they could do it all in one trip. Walking the mattress down the halls of the Watchpoint was made easier by the cart they found in the storage bay. 

Between getting the sad, flat old mattress out and putting the new one in, they met one of their neighbors in the wing. He introduced himself as Baptiste. He was tall and so good-looking that Jesse found him suspicious. Nobody trustworthy had dimples that deep or teeth that white.

“Need a hand?” Baptiste asked. 

Genji appeared in the doorway, crowding their guest into the room. “Yes, I would love to help you with whatever this is, brother,” he said a little too quickly.

“You want to help.” It wasn’t a question, but Hanzo’s skepticism rang through loud and clear. 

“Of course! You know me.” Genji smiled brightly. “You need to get rid of the old one, right? Let me do that. I’m sure Baptiste and I can handle it, and you two can settle in.”

Jesse snorted and managed not to look at Hanzo. “Sure. Y’all can take it off our hands. We’d appreciate it.”

Genji made a show of lifting one end of the mattress, and the two of them disappeared with the floppy old thing loaded onto the cart. Jesse could hear Genji’s excited voice echoing down the hall. He exchanged a look with Hanzo, who only shrugged. 

By dinner time, everyone was rested up for proper introductions. The moment she saw him, Angie squeezed Jesse as tightly as she could, right before she told him he smelled like smoke and launched into a mini lecture. 

Baptiste was also brand new. He had been invited by Angie and arrived while Genji was out recruiting. It explained why Genji was so busy sniffing around him — “new and exciting” had always been the closest thing Genji had to a type. None of this made Jesse less suspicious. A medic had no good reason to have biceps like that. 

Fareeha was not quite as enthusiastic about the hugging, but she also wasn’t as pushy about Jesse’s bad habits. Lena Oxton wasn’t a friend as much as a fond memory, but she seemed genuinely pleased to see them again. Reinhardt was the most insistent hugger, trying his damnedest to crack Jesse’s ribs and then knock the wind out of him with the thumping on his back. 

Breathless from Reinhardt, Jesse formally met the DJ, who Genji had somehow failed to mention was  _ the  _ Lúcio, as in international megastar and revolutionary Lúcio Correia dos Santos. Mei and Winston rounded out the group for now, although there was a shortlist of invitees. It made Jesse feel a little better, knowing that if he and Hanzo had refused, or if they caved to their cynicism and ran, this new Overwatch might eventually get more personnel anyway. 

Over the next few weeks, they settled into a routine. Daily workouts, individual and team training, researching potential bounties within a reasonable traveling distance, and in Jesse’s case, wrestling the meal planning and grocery list powers away from Angie. He was surprised she hadn’t caused a damn riot, restricting butter and sugar the way she had. Mei told him later, in a whisper, that she had wanted the job, but she didn’t know how to ask for it when she was so busy with research. She became his first consultant for the job. The medics and scientists had other important things to do, so the only hostility in Jesse’s takeover was in Angela’s glare when he gleefully showed her the tripled quantities of salt and oil on the list. 

Managing the food was an easy way to get to know the newbies too. With more income and without Angie’s insistence on pure nutritional value, suddenly everyone had some kind of input. Jesse became the most sought after person on base. Despite that two different varieties were Hanzo’s request, Jesse had never seen so many types of tea in his life. Some items were harder to come by, but there was an adventure to be found in searching out the places that sold ingredients specific to different countries’ cuisines. He had never been a genius at scheduling, but he remembered Gabe’s old chore charts and figured out a way to rotate cooking duties so everybody could make use of their requests. 

It gave him something to do, and it meant he got to flex a skill he hadn’t used as often as he would have liked. Hanzo was the world’s worst sous chef, but he made up for it with his enthusiasm for eating anything Jesse put in front of him. Once he cottoned on to how much Jesse liked trying new things, he was happy to go searching the internet for recipes for old childhood favorites. It didn’t hurt anything that he was also cute as hell sitting on the counter waiting patiently to taste Jesse’s in-progress experiments.

In all the years they’d been together, they had only gotten to live like this a few times. They had rented houses and apartments here and there for different jobs or some quality downtime, but this was by far their longest uninterrupted stretch of domestic bliss. Or what passed for domestic bliss in their line of work, anyway. Most couples probably didn’t spend their time consensually beating the shit out of each other in training. Too bad for those couples, really. There was something special about spooning his latest tweak to his tomato sauce into the waiting mouth of the guy who had almost wrenched Jesse’s shoulder from its socket not two hours before. The special part typically also involved a massage for the sore muscles and a quickie on their new mattress.

They were in the middle of exactly that sort of taste test — except this time with kimchi nabe — when Jesse heard a quiet sigh behind him. 

Lena was leaning in the doorway, looking through them with a faint smile, at least until she realized she had been caught staring. “Sorry. You’re making me miss Emily.” 

“That the same girl you were with way back when?” Jesse asked as he put some space between himself and Hanzo. It wasn’t as weird as getting caught or overheard by Genji, but he still wasn’t keen on talking to a third party from between his boyfriend’s legs.

_ “Woman,  _ and yes.” 

“That’s a long time!”

“The distance must be difficult,” Hanzo said, slowly and with a funny stiffness to his tone. Jesse hid his smirk by turning toward the stove; Hanzo had never learned how to be good with people, even when he was trying.

Lena was an easy one though, unperturbed by anyone else’s awkwardness. “It’s awful, and it’s made wedding planning a real pain.”

“Ah. I imagine so.” If anything, the tension in Hanzo’s voice only grew, discomfort radiating off of him throughout his efforts to stay engaged. “When is the wedding?”

If Lena noticed, it didn’t stop her from growing more excited, like it was her chance to finally unleash the sole topic she truly wanted to talk about. “Not for a few months yet, but the prep is barking mad. Her family is  _ huge _ so it took forever to find a venue that we could afford, and Em has all these things she wants to do, and—”

Jesse tried to tune out the rest as she went on about the thousand and one items on Emily’s to-do list, but he couldn’t quite ignore Hanzo’s practiced, polite sounds, little _oh_ s and _hm_ s and _I see_ s that kept her going. Either Lena didn’t notice or she didn’t care, but to Jesse’s ear, Hanzo sounded increasingly distressed, unable to break away from the conversation but utterly uninterested in its topic. Which of course didn’t mean that he wasn’t interested in weddings at all. Maybe he didn’t care about the finer details, especially for someone else. He’d probably like it more if it was for theirs. He’d be okay if it wasn’t  _ so _ elaborate. 

It was the polite thing to do, now that the food was ready, to invite Lena to share. Jesse was relieved, and then felt sort of bad about being relieved, when she begged off thanks to an inability to handle even the barest hint of heat in her food. At least it meant he and Hanzo could escape without being rude, although Jesse suspected they each wanted to get away for totally different reasons. 

“You overwhelmed, baby?” he made himself ask. 

Hanzo glanced up from his bowl, surprised. “I suppose so. It was… Well.” He lowered his voice. “I am pleased that Ms. Oxton seems happy, but I am  _ very  _ grateful that you are not Emily,” he said with a smirk. 

“Makes sense. No one’s as pretty as I am.” Jesse smirked right back, then he stuffed his face with food so he didn’t say anything stupid.

**Author's Note:**

> Random trivia: Jesse has a red-tailed hawk tattoo because it's the bird that makes the "reeeeee!" sound in Westerns (and his ult) that usually gets attributed to eagles.


End file.
